


The Traveling Eunich

by DaisyChainz



Series: The Witcher fics [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Bed hopping, Humor, Multi, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Taking Advantage of a Rumor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:06:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22616854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaisyChainz/pseuds/DaisyChainz
Summary: In which Jaskier realizes Geralt really Did do him a favor at Calanthe's party.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Original Character(s)
Series: The Witcher fics [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1639627
Comments: 6
Kudos: 30





	The Traveling Eunich

Geralt had thought himself to be quite (and unusually!) amusing when he had declared Jaskier to be a eunich at Queen Calanthe's dinner. He had even given Jaskier a smug grin and reminded him what the alternative had been. Jaskier had been momentarily relieved, but not amused. 

Then he had mulled the idea. Geralt's words had set the husband completely at ease (at least in his concern over his wife). He had even rewarded Jaskier for his hardship. 

Perhaps that was something he could work with. 

The next time Jaskier found himself approaching a new town, one he had never been before, he let word slip of the traveling eunich. The perfect gentleman to entertain the townsfolk; ladies and maidens included. 

It worked surprisingly well. He had been at the local tavern for only a few hours when he found himself being summoned. He was soon before the local Lord, being given drunken instructions on how he should best be entertaining the lady of the house, and her maids in waiting. 

Other than a stern warning to keep his hands to himself, regardless of his 'condition' (the Lord had looked uncomfortable and waved vaguely downwards), Jaskier quickly found himself turned loose in the Ladies quarters. He couldn't believe his luck. Soon he was surrounded by curious young ladies, who were not shy about asking questions regarding his 'condition'. He answered them with a wink and a vague implication that he was perhaps not completely out of commission. He didn't outright admit anything right away. Even he understood to have a little caution; lest one of the Ladies Maids had a forked tongue. 

But in the meantime, life was good. Every day Jaskier attended the bored young women, walked among their lounging bodies, singing to them of bravery and battles, love and heartbreak. He soon had them all eating out of his hand with his magnificent tales and sparkling wit and song. They would have him lay among them, and bicker over who got to hand-feed him, and they made certain his throat was never dry. 

While the Lady of the house caught his eye immediately, there were several ladies maids with morals that were truly quite shocking. He thoroughly enjoyed them after the house was dark for the night. Sometimes more than one a night and one memorable evening, two at the same time. 

It wasn't long before the Lady herself summoned him to her room. She lay amongst the pillows and beckoned him closer with a long, pale hand. Her hair was flowing freely, black as the skies outside. Her night gown was unlaced to almost her navel and the inner swells of her breasts were in full view. As Jaskier smiled and joined her on the bed he hummed that he would have to sing of those perfect breasts. 

However, nothing so wonderful could last forever. Jaskier knew better than to outstay his welcome. If the women grew bored of him, in his professional capacity or otherwise, they might tell their Lord what he was up to just to be spiteful. It was always better that those he left behind should be sorry to see him go. Or at least he assumed so. In his previous experience people had felt he couldn't leave soon enough. 

So the ladies cried and whispered promises of what they would do if he would return to them--truly wicked things that made him contemplate actually coming back. The Lord of the House was so pleased with how happy the Ladies were he slapped Jaskier roughly in the back, handed him a bag of coins and bid him a good journey. 

Jaskier couldn't help but send up thanks to Geralt, wherever he currently was, for being a smug arse. This was the most appreciated his efforts had ever been. 

Jaskier let two towns pass before he tried again. He met with similar results. And in the town after, and the town after that. Eunich's were considered so un-manned, and none of the Lords and husbands (or many other men he met) wanted to contemplate his supposed woes. Or scrutinize it too closely.

He was given free reign of the Ladies' quarters, and often the rest of the house as well. He found willing, and highly neglected house maids, cook's apprentices, and even the occasional stable hand. His favorite were the proper young men in charge of houses whose Lord's couldn't give a rat's arse if the table was set properly. They knew the best private corners of the house, and gave Jaskier their mouths freely with little expectations on return (although he most certainly did). 

It was a time as though he had died and joined the blessed after life. His every word was hung upon, there was laughter when he was amusing, tears when he sang of heartbreak, gasps when he told stories of great battles. He was not only welcomed into the beds of others, but beckoned there. Other than the pitying or disgusted looks the warriors and guards gave him, there was no one that belittled him; and not a single person threw food at him.

However, while most men were squeamish of his condition, not every Lord was stupid. One evening Jaskier found himself being led through a darkened house by an older gentleman in proper attire. Instead of meeting a drunken lout at the head of a table of boisterous warriors, he met the new Lord in his quiet study. The man, old enough to have grey streaks but not elderly in the least, regarded Jaskier closely in the candle light. 

"My Lady Wife," he said at last, "has requested the bard known as the Traveling Eunich. Would that be you?"

Jaskier put on his brightest smile and gave a courteous bow. "Yes My Lord. That is how I am known."

The man looked at him thoughtfully. "And are you?"

Jaskier blinked and smiled, answering vaguely, "of course, My Lord."

The Lord nodded to the corner of the room. Then back to Jaskier. "Are you now. Well, I believe that remains to be seen."

Jaskier froze and the smile melted off his face. "Surely it would be beneath his Lordship to . . ."

The Lord waved dismissively at him. "Of course it would be. That is why he will handle it."

Jaskier turned to where the Lord's eyes had strayed. Sure enough, a burly, armored guard was standing behind the door. 

Pale, Jaskier turned back to the desk, jumpy. "Surely this is not necessary, My Lord! My reputation precedes me . . ."

"It certainly does. But one can certainly never be too careful with their Lady Wife." His eyes were already back on his papers. He motioned to the guard. "Do it now."

Jaskier jumped as the guard reached for him. "Truly I must protest, My Lord!" He ducked under the guard's reaching hand. "As a professional courtesy I should not be expected to . . ." He spun, the guard hampered in the small study by his armor. "Bare my shame!"

The Lord hummed as he turned his pages. "As that is your title, I would assume you find little shame in your condition."

"There is a difference," stated Jaskier as he broke for the door, "between good advertising of a saleable commodity," the guard lunged as he made the hallway, "and dropping your knickers to be ogled!" The last was yelled behind him as he gained speed back towards the front door.

Jaskier had the long walk to the next town, and the one after, to fully contemplate the newly discovered dark side to having finally found fame and recognition. 

He was quite thankful that Geralt was nowhere around to smile smugly at him. It would make him want to punch the Witcher, and he couldn't afford to damage his delicate instruments. 

*** **

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